


Clarity

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Follow the North Star [35]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 03:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12225285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: “I can go,” Evan says. “I mean. I can’t, but. I can go sit in the bathroom or something? Or maybe they’ll let me leave now that things are — I can go.”“What are you talking about, Connie?” Roman asks, right before Harry can ask the exact same thing, probably with more profanity.“You probably want some time alone,” Evan mumbles.





	Clarity

Harry’s mouth is working without his permission. This isn’t even close to the first time that’s happened, not today, not even in the last five minutes, but usually when Harry’s mouth works without his permission he blurts out something stupid. This is —

He has a split second where he registers the heat of Roman’s mouth. Okay, it’s more than a second. Maybe a few seconds. Point is, once his brain’s caught up to his mouth, as it always does eventually, he jerks himself backwards, almost falling in the process.

“What the fuck?” Harry says, “Why the fuck — you kissed me!”

“You technically kissed me first,” Roman says, sounding a little off-balance himself. Harry opens his mouth to argue before he realizes that is possibly the case. Temporary insanity or something.

“But—” Harry says. But Evan, who he’d almost forgotten about with Roman’s mouth against his, which makes him feel like shit. Evan, who’s been crushing on Roman for as long as Harry’s known him, who’s kind and sweet and so insecure, and who just saw his boyfriend kiss the guy who broke up with him. What the fuck is _wrong_ with Harry? 

He twists around, finds Evan still sitting at the head of the bed, knees tucked up, this small little smile on his face that’s straight up wrong and that Harry never wants to see again.

“Ev, I’m so fucking—” Harry starts, practically biting his tongue off when Evan shakes his head.

“I get it,” Evan says.

“Yeah?” Roman asks. 

Harry doesn’t know what it is Evan gets, because _Harry_ sure as shit doesn’t. He’s never been more confused in his life, and he suddenly wonders if this is how Evan’s felt from the start, like everything in him is being pulled in two directions.

Evan nods a bit, and Harry feels like Roman and Evan are having a conversation over his head, and not for the first time today.

“Whatever you get, can you explain it to me, because I feel like a fucking idiot right now,” Harry says.

Evan doesn’t say anything.

“Please?” Harry adds. It’s not a word that’s usually in his vocabulary, but he is absolutely not above pleading right now if that puts everything back in order, because right now the world’s gone completely askew, and he can’t keep up.

“I can go,” Evan says. “I mean. I can’t, but. I can go sit in the bathroom or something? Or maybe they’ll let me leave now that things are — I can go.”

“What are you talking about, Connie?” Roman asks, right before Harry can ask the exact same thing, probably with more profanity.

“You probably want some time alone,” Evan mumbles.

“What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” Harry blurts.

“Chalmers,” Roman snaps, and Harry’s about to snap right back, but he can see Evan start shrinking in on himself again.

“Sorry,” Harry says. “Ev, what —”. He tries to think of some way to phrase his last question better, but he’s at a bit of a loss, because honestly that question needs an answer.

“You said okay,” Roman says to Evan when Harry doesn’t finish. “Before I kissed Harry.”

 _I kissed you_ , Harry thinks sullenly, then immediately wonders what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

“I know,” Evan says, then, “I meant it.”

“You’re not really looking okay, Connie,” Roman says. 

“It’s fine,” Evan says, shooting that smile Roman’s way, and Roman flinches back from it exactly the same way Harry had.

“I’m sorry if I misinterpreted—” Roman says, then gets that same head shake, goes quiet like Harry did.

“You didn’t,” Evan says. “It’s okay.”

“Okay, again,” Harry says. “Can someone explain to me what the hell you’re talking about, because I’m getting kind of tired of feeling stupid.” 

“Connie knows I have feelings for you,” Roman says, looking at Connie, not him, and saying it matter-of-factly, like that’s not a _huge fucking bombshell_. Though, in hindsight, maybe the kissing was a bit of a hint.

“Why?” Harry sputters.

“Why do I? Or why—” Roman says.

“Yes,” Harry says, and then, seeing Evan shifting to stand, “Sit down, Evan.”

“This really isn’t my business,” Evan says.

“Fuck that,” Harry says, over Roman’s, “How is it not your business?”

Evan sits back down, looking miserable.

“How is it not your business?” Roman repeats.

“It’s between you two,” Evan says.

“If it was just between us shit would be a lot less complicated,” Roman says.

“I’m sorry,” Evan says.

“What are you even apologizing for right now?” Harry asks. 

“I think we’re getting our wires crossed right now,” Roman says before Evan can answer. “So maybe we should sit down and discuss this issue by issue?” 

“Who died and made you captain,” Harry mutters, but without heat. Stupid Roman and his stupid taking control of the situation with his stupid mouth that Harry stupidly kissed.

It is really not the time to be looking at his mouth. Harry looks down instead at his hands. 

“First off,” Roman says. “And Harry won’t interrupt you—”

“Hey,” Harry protests.

Roman gives him a glare that is surprisingly effective and also kind of — shut up, Harry. Not the fucking time, remember? “Harry won’t interrupt you,” he repeats, more to Harry than to Evan.

Harry zips his lips sarcastically.

“Why don’t you think this isn’t your business, Connie?” Roman asks.

Evan’s quiet. “You chose,” he says finally. “I couldn’t, but.”

“What did I choose?” Roman asks, a lot more patient than Harry’s feeling, 

“Harry,” Evan says. “And I understand, I would — I understand.”

“No one else understands what you understand!” Harry says. 

“You think it’s either-or,” Roman says, and Harry knows he doesn’t say it just to prove Harry wrong, but still.

“Isn’t it?” Evan asks.

“Christ, Connie,” Roman says, then inexplicably pulls Evan’s hand out of his lap, raising it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the palm of it. 

“Um,” Harry says, suddenly feeling like he’s the one who should be leaving the room. Also like he’s still a thousand steps behind, and that feeling is annoying enough without it additionally being clear that Roman’s figured out whatever it is Harry hasn’t.

Roman glances over at him, eyes flicking between him and Evan with intent that Harry doesn’t get at all, right until he does, feeling slow yet again. He shifts up the bed, knee knocking into Evan’s.

“What’re you—” Evan asks, pulling his hand out of Roman’s grip.

“It’s not,” Roman says. “It’s not either-or.”

“Why’d you start dating both of us?” Roman asks, when Evan doesn’t say anything, looking almost as confused as Harry’s feeling himself, with an edge to that look Harry doesn’t quite understand, but dislikes instinctively.

Evan flinches a little. “Victor said—”

“Which one did you want to date more?” Roman presses, and for someone who’s been glaring at Harry every time he uses anything but dulcet tones, he’s not exactly pulling his punches.

“I couldn’t—” Evan says.

“You couldn’t decide,” Roman says. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Evan whispers.

“Fuck,” Roman says. “I’m not trying to — why do you think that applies only to you, Con? You think you’re the only one confused right now?”

Harry raises a hand. “I am more confused than both of you combined right now, I’m pretty sure,” he offers.

Roman gives him a sliver of a smile, then turns back to Evan. “You thought I picked Harry,” Roman says. “And you said _okay_?”

“I meant it,” Evan says.

“I’m sorry, did you break up with me at some point without _telling me_?” Harry breaks in. “Because last I checked you were still my fucking boyfriend and I’m not free to be picked or whatever the fuck, and I’m sure as shit not okay with you _offering me up_.”

“No,” Evan says. “I just thought, I mean —” 

His eyes flick over to Roman, and —

Oh.

Okay. Harry’s starting to get it now. 

He kind of wishes he hadn’t.

“You thought, what,” Harry says. “That Roman kisses me and so suddenly I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore?”

Evan doesn’t answer him, but the look on his face is answer enough, and this is the weirdest fucking deja vu, like every single fear Harry had when Roman kissed Evan has been twisted in on itself. Except ten times stupider, because it’s _Evan_.

“Okay, that’s fucking stupid,” Harry says, and when Roman gives him another capital L Look, “It is! We’ve been fighting over you from the start and you think, what, that the second there’s someone else on offer you’re not going to matter? I get that you’re —” Roman doesn’t even need to look at him for Harry to cut himself off, tread a little more carefully. “You think I’m that big a dick?”

“No,” Evan says. “You’re not a dick—”

“He’s kind of a dick,” Roman says, and Harry punches him in the arm, annoyed when Roman doesn’t even bother to look pained, just goes on. “But I’m with Harry here. You have to know we’re crazy about you, Connie.”

Evan still looks, more than anything, confused, and Harry hates that, hates that Roman stating the damn obvious is apparently news, hates that somehow he’s left Evan doubting that, even though he knows it isn’t something logical. Hates more than anything that the ugly little thoughts he has that he knows aren’t true, are his brain self-sabotaging him, trying to find the bad in the good, made up entirely out of hints and gestures and sometimes nothing at all, that he _knows_ is bullshit — hates that Evan’s got that voice too, but he hasn’t figured out it’s fucking lying to him, or if he’s figured it out, he still listens to it, takes it at face value.

Harry makes a mess of things more often than not when words are involved, he knows that, and that’s not the stupid voice in him, just common sense and experience. He doesn’t know what he could say here that would make Evan believe him more than that stupid voice, and Roman, who Harry will grudgingly admit seems a little better at the whole ‘stringing words together that don’t make things worse’ thing looks similarly at a loss right now.

He looks even more at a loss when Harry decides that fuck it, he’s going with improvisation, because fuck know what else he can do to knock them out of this, this thing that’s going in circles, and, in Evan’s case, seems to be spiraling down. Words aren’t working, so Harry grabs Roman’s face, pulls him forward into what is an objectively bad kiss, more teeth than anything, Roman’s mouth half-open against his, caught in a question. It still gets under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected, and fuck, Val’s going to be insufferable, because yeah, Harry undeniably wants to fuck him.

Roman looks completely stunned when Harry pulls back, which is satisfying, but not something he can linger on, distract him from the point of this. Harry doesn’t ask this time before kissing Evan, more careful about it than he was with Roman, a gentle brush of their mouths rather than the stinging thing that’s still lingering on his lips, pulls back before Evan can kiss him back, if he was going to. Harry’s not sure.

“Okay?” Harry says.

Evan gives him that awful smile again. “You don’t have to—” he says.

“No one’s doing anything but what they want to,” Roman says, and, once again, Harry can’t even snap at Roman for speaking for the both of them, because that’s not only true, but indisputably the thing Evan needs to hear right now. Roman leans forward and presses a kiss to Evan’s cheek, his jaw, lingering there before finally kissing him, and Harry can see Evan’s eyes flutter shut when he does, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks as Roman kisses him, and instead of feeling that ugly twist of jealousy Harry feels relief, along with a stab of arousal that it is not the time for.

Roman pulls back slowly, waits for Evan’s eyes to slowly open before he grabs Harry’s hand and, before Harry can reflexively snatch it back, presses a kiss to his palm the way he did to Evan’s before, the prickle of his beard and the plush of his lips competing sensations in a kiss that somehow feels ten times more intimate than the ones before.

That arousal is emphatically not going away. Not the _time_ , Harry’s dick.

“You get it?” Roman asks quietly, and Evan’s still for a moment.

“I think so,” Evan says, even quieter. 

The question may have been for Evan, but Harry’s got an answer to that too, one he can’t bite back in time. “Oh shit,” Harry says, with dawning dismay. “Val was right about threesomes, wasn’t he.”


End file.
